As through the garden’s willow’d walks I hied Full many a tree and blossom I espied. But of all trees, the Apple Tree most fair And beautiful did unto me appear. It sobbed and wept. Its leaves said murmuringly: “I would that God had ne’er created me! The badge of sin and wickedness I am E’en at thy feast, O Father Abraham. [1] The apple growing on me first From Eden came ere it was cursed, Alas, alas, I am undone! Why fell I to that evil one?” MY HEART IS TURNED INTO A WAILING CHILD By N. KOUCHAK (Fifteenth Century) My heart is turned into a wailing child, In vain with sweets I seek to still its cries; Sweet love, it calls for thee in sobbings wild All day and night, with longing and with sighs. What solace can I give it? I showed my eyes the fair ones of this earth And tried to please them—but I tried in vain. Sweet love, for them all those were nothing worth— Thee—only thee my heart would have again. What solace can I give it? O NIGHT, BE LONG By N. KOUCHAK O Night, be long—long as an endless year! Descend, thick darkness, black and full of fear! To-night my heart’s desire has been fulfilled— My love is here at last—a guest concealed! Dawn, stand behind seven mountains—out of sight, Lest thou my loved one banish with thy light; I would for ever thus in darkness rest So I might ever clasp him to my breast. BLACK EYES By AVETIS ISAHAKIAN (Born 1875) Do not trust black eyes, but fear them:— Gloom they are, and endless night; Woes and perils lurking near them— Love not thou their gleaming bright! In my heart a sea of blood wells, Called up by their cruel might, No calm ever in that flood dwells— Love not thou their gleaming bright! YESTERNIGHT I WALKED ABROAD ANONYMOUS Yesternight I walked abroad. From the clouds sweet dews were falling, And my love stood in the road, All in green, and to me calling. To her home she led me straight, Shut and barred the gate securely; Whoso tries to force that gate Brave I’ll reckon him most surely! In the garden she did go, Gathered roses dewed with showers; Some she gave her lover, so He might lay his face in flowers. Garments loose and snowy breast, I slipped in her bosom tender And I found a moment’s rest, Clasped within those arms so slender. Then I raised my hands above— Grant, O Lord, that I wake never; On the bosom of my love May I live and die forever! What have I from this world gained? What advantage gathered ever? For the hunt my falcon trained I let fly—it went forever! Ah, my falcon, woe the day! Tell me, whither art thou flying? I will follow all the way— Since thou wentest I am dying.